


Office Chair

by preferablynameless



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley's Throne, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, She/Her Pronouns for Aziraphale (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29669376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preferablynameless/pseuds/preferablynameless
Summary: When she re-emerged, Aziraphale was waiting in the study. More precisely, on Crowley’s ostentatious throne.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	Office Chair

Crowley woke up to the doorbell ringing, which was strange, because she didn’t have a doorbell installed.

Aziraphale, however, hadn’t considered there might not be a doorbell, and so it rang.

Crowley stumbled out of bed, vaguely remembering that the alarm had gone off some time ago, and cursed the invention of the snooze button, which she absolutely didn’t have a hand in, what are you talking about. She let Aziraphale in and left her cooing at the plants (hearing the way Aziraphale talked to them made her feel things, but that was all right these days) while she made herself presentable. Snapping her fingers and being done with it was an option, but unfortunately did nothing to get rid of the feeling of having just woken up. A miracle wouldn’t get you ready to face the world.

When she re-emerged, Aziraphale was waiting in the study. More precisely, on Crowley’s ostentatious throne.

Crowley had pulled that particular piece of furniture out of thin air after she saw it in some edgy TV show and immediately thought it would up the diabolicality of her flat perfectly.

Point was, the stupid throne didn’t mean anything. Sure, she sprawled in it sometimes, congratulating herself on how perfectly cunning and in control of her existence she was, but she’d never seen the appeal of fancying herself a ruler of anything. She wasn’t really cut out for that sort of thing, and besides, as far as systems of government went, she’d rather go with one that had no need for thrones.

Aziraphale, however, looked like some sort of kind-hearted queen from a glorifying fairy tale, the way she sat there with back ramrod straight and hands folded in her lap, soft among all the hard edges.

Her angel belonged in shabby wingback chairs and on cozy settees, not thrones. Maybe that was why the whole picture worked so well.

Aziraphale made to stand up as Crowley approached.

Before Crowley could think about it, she held her hand up to stop Aziraphale.

“Could you stay there for a bit?” she said, and her voice came out soft.

Aziraphale paused mid-motion, halfway up from the throne, hands on the armrests. She raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I mean, you don’t have to get up just yet,” Crowley clarified as she moved closer. She slithered like a particularly self-conscious predator. Aziraphale wasn’t her prey, though. Aziraphale was the place she returned to at night, a safe hideout under a fallen tree trunk.

“Oh, but weren’t we about to go out?”

“Change of plans?” Crowley shrugged, giving Aziraphale a faux-nonchalant smile. Her unblinking eyes hadn’t left Aziraphale.

Aziraphale lowered herself back down onto the upholstered seat, one eyebrow still quizzically arched. Crowley’s eyes strayed down to watch the way Aziraphale’s wide thighs spread across the burgundy velvet. Her knees were pressed close together and her posture remained impeccable as ever. Crowley longed to run a hand down her back and see it lose its rigidity. To sink to her knees and kiss those thighs until they allowed her in between. To kiss and bite and caress until Aziraphale’s cheeks flushed, until the angel lost herself so deep in pleasure she forgot to care about propriety or what an outsider might think about her body.

Crowley came to a halt in front of her, and Aziraphale raised her chin to look up at her. Crowley reached for her hand and lifted it up from the armrest to cradle it between both of her own.

“What’s on your mind, dear?” Aziraphale questioned, a small smile lighting up her features.

Crowley squeezed her hand, wondering what words to use. Finding none worthy, she bent down and brought Aziraphale’s hand to her mouth. Closing her eyes, she pressed a lingering kiss on the back of it before nuzzling it with her cheek.

Aziraphale’s eyes were warm and soothing, and being their target was like taking a bath in a hot spring.

Crowley leant forward and caught Aziraphale’s lips in a gentle kiss. She immersed herself in the feeling of her angel’s languid responses.

She braced her knee on the throne, the seat allowing just enough space for the knobby joint to fit beside Aziraphale’s thigh. She was close enough now to feel the familiar warmth of Aziraphale’s body.

Aziraphale pulled back, pupils dilated and cheeks flushed.

“What brought this on? Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

Crowley nuzzled her face against Aziraphale’s neck and made a sound verging on a whine. She wished Aziraphale could read her mind so she wouldn’t have to put her thoughts into words. But alas, mind-reading wasn’t an ability either of them had at their disposal. “Someone should’ve put you on a throne sooner,” she mumbled into Aziraphale’s skin. She felt Aziraphale swallow.

“Really, dear,” she half-asked sarcastically.

“Without a doubt,” Crowley grinned.

She straightened and let her eyes roam over Aziraphale’s form, all frumpy beige clothes, round face and chubby cheeks. Her familiar mouth, pink and plump with its oh-so-preciously curved cupid’s bow.

Aziraphale’s gaze flicked up and down, and taking that as a hint that she was growing uncomfortable with the scrutiny, Crowley leant back in and dropped a kiss on her chin and the tip of her nose.

Aziraphale put her hand on the back of Crowley’s neck and brought their lips together, and as their kisses deepened, Crowley brought her other knee up, straddling Aziraphale’s lap. The seat was _just_ wide enough for it, and Aziraphale wrapped an arm around her to keep her close.

“You taste like toothpaste,” Aziraphale said. Their noses were brushing, and Aziraphale’s lips remained temptingly close as she spoke.

“Is that bad or good?” Crowley mumbled.

“Good,” Aziraphale said, stealing a soft kiss. “It’s just that you usually taste like coffee. Or tea.”

“Hm.” They didn’t manage to talk much more in the following minutes, preoccupied by slow kisses. Crowley’s hand found its way down Aziraphale’s back and under the waistband of her trousers. She felt Aziraphale lean into the touch as Crowley moved her hand to her hip, the heel of her palm pressing into the flesh.

She got to work on the buttons of her fly, mumbling, “Let me?”

“Not how I envisioned spending this morning,” Aziraphale breathed, and Crowley’s hand stilled. “No, go ahead. Just that, I thought we were going for a walk.”

“So did I,” Crowley said. She kissed Aziraphale’s neck as she continued undoing the buttons, one by one. “Until someone had to come in and sit herself down in my bloody throne. While looking like _that_.”

Crowley felt Aziraphale’s chest vibrate under her lips as Aziraphale laughed. “I have no idea what about it gets you all… hot and bothered.”

“I didn’t know that was in your vocabulary,” Crowley said, her hands leaving Aziraphale’s now unbuttoned trousers so she could wrap her arms around her. “Full of surprises, you are.”

Aziraphale tucked her head under Crowley’s chin, and Crowley squeezed her, pressing close.

“Would you like to know what I’m thinking?” Crowley mumbled into her ear.

“Mmm. Do tell.”

“I’m thinking I really want to eat you out. Right now.”

Aziraphale squeezed her tighter and squirmed under her weight. “Oh, and I thought you were going to say something romantic.”

Crowley placed a smacking kiss on her temple. “I’ll show you romantic.”

She drew back and set her feet back on the ground. She didn’t remain standing, instead dropping to her knees and sliding her hands up Aziraphale’s thighs.

She helped her out of her trousers and underwear, and she miracled them off halfway through the process when she decided she didn’t want to bother taking off Aziraphale’s shoes to get the garments out of the way.

Aziraphale gave her a reproachful look. She and her reservations about using miracles on books and clothes. Crowley laid her cheek on Aziraphale’s thigh and grinned up at her. Aziraphale smiled back and combed her fingers through Crowley’s hair. Crowley pressed her mouth to the pliant flesh of Aziraphale’s thighs, breathing in her comforting scent.

“Shuffle forward,” Crowley mumbled as she kissed her way up her thigh.

Aziraphale shifted to the edge of the velvet seat. Her hands continued carding through the short red strands of Crowley’s hair as Crowley pressed her mouth against her.

Aziraphale’s bare skin rubbed against the upholstery as she twitched and ground against Crowley’s lips and tongue.

Crowley put her hand to work as well, and Aziraphale gasped and moaned her name, alongside all sorts of other beautiful things.

 _Darling, sweetheart, my love,_ she sighed, making Crowley clutch her hip helplessly with her unoccupied hand.

 _You’re wonderful, you make me feel so good, you’re so lovely, sweetheart…_ Crowley could do nothing but press her mouth more insistently against Aziraphale. Desperately. Devotedly.

_Yes, do that again._

_Yes, right there._

_Yes, my sweet, just like that._

When Crowley rose to her feet at last, she was pleased to find that even from a higher vantage point, Aziraphale looked positively debauched. Her cheeks glowed pink, and gone were all traces of proper posture as she slumped back against the backrest.

“You know, I wanted to throw this thing out,” Crowley said, gesturing at the throne. “But I guess I’ll keep it after all.”

Aziraphale stood up, wobbling slightly before she found her balance. She stroked Crowley’s cheek. “What do you want now, dear? Something for yourself?”

Crowley shrugged. “Doesn’t have to be now.”

“Nonsense. Maybe… if you like this piece of furniture so much, you could make yourself comfortable in it and I’d see what I can do?”

Crowley wrapped her arms around Aziraphale tightly. “I’d much rather if you did me in your décor crime of an armchair.”

“Whatever you wish, dearest.”


End file.
